


All Flowers Wither

by Naralanis



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, NarLily - Freeform, no happy endings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/pseuds/Naralanis





	1. The Sensible Thing

“You know, you could just leave everything behind.”

Narcissa grunted as her hand pumped furiously in an out in a rhythm they had become accustomed to in these occasional secretive rendezvous.

“This is not the time.” She said, kneeling onto the cold tiles of the shower stall. She didn’t want to talk and, coincidentally, what she had planned on doing with her mouth instead had the added benefit of shutting Lily up.

“You could—ah! Fuck! Cissy!”

Narcissa smirked against Lily’s heat. Everything in the world was always difficult and muddled and grey, but this... This was easy, beautiful, and clear as day. 

Lily’s body jerked and quaked with Narcissa’s practiced, effortless movement, rising and falling to meet Narcissa’s fingers and tongue frenetically. Her hands wound themselves tightly into wet blond hair, pulling Narcissa in, trapping her against wet heat. 

The running water muffled Lily’s cries as she reached her peak, as she crested it and then subsequently came down. 

Narcissa held her up as her body went limp. She would always complain about it, but inside she hid a heart-breaking sadness because soon—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon—she would be holding Lily Evans for the last time. 

“I’m just saying,” Lily continued several minutes later, as Narcissa lathered her copper strands with shampoo. Narcissa rolled her eyes, recognising her diversion tactics had been short-lived. “You could do what Andromeda did.”

Narcissa scoffed, running her fingers through Lily’s hair a bit more brusquely than was warranted. Lily did not even flinch. 

“We will not speak of my sister,” she said bitingly, her tone a warning she could only hope Lily would heed. This matter had been revisited enough, and she suspected they—due to Lily’s adamant, vexatious persistence—would revisit it a thousand times more once they started their seventh year soon. 

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Lily hissed, exasperated. 

Narcissa huffed. It was hopeless. 

“The sensible thing would be to stop this,” she bit back, eyes gleaming with anger as Lily turned around to face her, emerald gaze glimmering with defiance. Narcissa continued, her tone icy like the frost that covered the dewy castle grounds that morning. “The more sensible thing would have been to never have started this in the first place.”

Lily’s gaze burned through the steam of the shower. The tears pooled at her eyes were of defeat and resignation, but her voice was angry.

“Well?” She murmured. “Do you want to end this?”

Narcissa startled. This was it. The opportunity for a clean break, before fiancés and jealousy got thrown in the mix. One little word and she could put a stop to this madness before it could spiral completely out of control. She could spend the next year getting to know her husband-to-be and working on forgetting all about Lily Evans. 

But those green eyes held her gaze and her heart utterly captive. This madness had already spiralled out of control—it had gotten out of control the moment Lily Evans got under her skin and careened off-track completely when the Gryffindor had first kissed her on that All Hallow’s Eve on their fifth year.

“I should,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I should want to end it. But I don’t.”

Lily’s emerald gaze shattered once Narcissa let out a strangled sob. Her arms wound themselves around the Slytherin with such tenderness they opened the floodgates entirely. 

How utterly pathetic it was, to cry like a babe in Lily’s arms. How pathetic to feel so safe in her embrace. How pathetic, how idiotic, and how stupidly dangerous it was, to love Lily Evans.


	2. Sorry, Darling

“Evans, this is not your table,” a deep voice drawled venomously. “Get lost.”

Lucius’ arms tightened around Narcissa’s waist as the Gryffindor approached. Lily sported a friendly smile, seemingly unfazed by Lucius’ words. 

“I just wanted to give my congratulations on your engagement,” she said amicably. Narcissa could see how her smile didn’t reach her eyes, how those deep green pools looked dull and lifeless. 

“We don’t need well-wishes from your sort” Lucius retorted, eyes narrowing. “Run along now, mudblood.”

“Lucius!” Narcissa hissed involuntarily, attracting questioning looks from her surrounding Housemates and a bewildered expression from the Gryffindor standing by them. “Language!” she said, keeping her tone mildly haughty. “I expect my husband to be to have better table manners than this.”

Lucius seemed mollified by her out, and had the grace to look mildly chastised at her admonishment. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry, darling.”

* * *

 

“ _Sorry, darling.”_

Narcissa whipped around to where Lily’s mocking tone had come from. She had waited approximately five minutes after the Gryffindor had left the Great Hall to excuse herself, naturally gravitating towards the empty classroom that had become one of their regular haunts over the years. 

Lily emerged from the shadows, smirking. The smirk did not fool Narcissa in the slightest; she could see the sadness in the other girl’s eyes as clearly as she saw her own reflected in the mirror. 

“Congratulations,” Lily said, her tone acidic and venomous and hurt. “You’ve bagged yourself a real charmer.”

Narcissa bristled. 

“You speak as if I had any choice on the matter,” she retorted, because it wasn’t fair. Her family wasn’t fair. Marrying Lucius wasn’t fair. Most of all, loving Lily wasn’t fair. 

Lily’s eyes brimmed with tears. “There’s always a choice, Narcissa!” she cried, stepping forward and taking Narcissa’s hands in her own. 

Narcissa inhaled deeply, holding her breath and her tears. She knew what came next--it wasn’t the first time Lily had asked her, but something made her suspect it might very well be the last. 

“Cissy,” Lily pleaded, tears flowing freely. “Please. Please. Run away with me.”

Narcissa didn’t want to release the breath she held. With it would come the only answer she could ever give, the one answer neither of them wanted to hear. 

But she could only forego breathing for so long before her lungs burned painfully. 

“I can’t.”

Part of her wanted to remind Lily that they both had known so from the very start—they had had nearly two years to prepare for this inevitable end. 

It was ending, right here and right now, in this empty classroom. 

Lily let her tears run freely down her cheeks so that they could tell Narcissa  _look. Look what you’re doing to me. You're making me cry._

When Narcissa kissed her again, the Slytherin swore this would be the last time.


	3. Shameful

It wasn’t the last time. 

It was shameful, Narcissa was fully aware. Well, it had always been shameful, even from the very start, from the very first moment her heart skipped a beat over the Gryffindor. It had been shameful, filthy and utterly sinful—in the best and worst ways imaginable. 

Yes, sinful, she thought as Lily’s fingers thrust in and out of her frenetically. Her school skirt was still on, and Lily continued her desperate rhythm from behind as Narcissa held onto the edge of the desk she was bent over, knuckles going white with the force of her grip on the edge. 

The empty classroom—one in the third floor this time, where there were even fewer chances of being caught—had been completely silent, but now Narcissa’s gasps and moans filled the space along with Lily’s desperate grunts and ragged breaths.

It wasn’t any different than it had always been, Narcissa wondered as Lily pistoned in and out of her, another hand coming to hold tight onto her waist, pinning her to the desk. They had always been hiding, always been skirting around their Housemates and bending the rules. 

So really, the addition of a fiancé to the mix didn’t change much at all. They might as well cherish what little time they had left. 

Narcissa had barely gotten through the aftershocks when Lily flipped her over on the desk, peeling her skirt and undergarments away with an urgency that belied exactly how little time they had. 

Lily’s tongue found Narcissa’s heat with the hunger of a lioness on the hunt, attacking its prey with unstoppable ferocity. 

Narcissa wished these shameful moments were not so few and fleeting.


	4. Shatter

She heard it from Edith Bullstrode, who heard it from Rabastan who heard it from Severus. 

Narcissa refused to believe it. It was impossible. 

But the impossible became possible—all the proof she needed was presented to her that evening at dinner. She had taken her seat by Lucius, already well-trained to ignore the possessive grip of his hand upon her upper thigh, and then she saw it. 

There was Lily Evans, coming down for dinner, looking as beautiful and radiant as a pink sunrise, laughing openly on the arm of James Potter. 

It couldn’t be. 

Narcissa felt her world shatter around her. The end had come much, much sooner than she had ever anticipated. 

She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think, she couldn’t even see straight. Her vision had tunnelled onto the giggling pair, and Narcissa felt a murderous rage course through her veins, cushioning her heartbreak. 

She was going to  _kill_ him. 

But she wouldn’t. James Potter was laughing and so was Lily. Lily was happy to be by his side, to be on his arm, to be seen with Gryffindor’s star Chaser. 

Narcissa couldn’t bear it anymore. She stood abruptly, knocking over a goblet or two and startling her Housemates—and Lucius, who looked at her as if she were insane. 

“Narcissa, what on earth? Sit down,” he chastised her, clearly annoyed with the small commotion that had attracted curious eyes. 

Narcissa didn’t answer him. Green eyes locked with blue over the House tables. 

She rushed out of the Great Hall without another word, Lucius’ protests falling on deaf ears. 

* * *

 

She rushed into the first bathroom she stumbled upon, hurrying into the nearest stall so she wouldn’t vomit all over the marble tiles. 

It was as if her body wanted out of itself—in tears and bile and sweat. She was bent over the toilet bowl with no dignity left, shivering and panting pathetically when gentle, familiar hands pulled her long hair back. 

Having Lily see her like this only made Narcissa sob harder. She could not bring herself to care that she looked absolutely wretched and pathetic; the sudden devastating hollowness in her chest was too painful for her to think of anything else. 

A hand rubbed soothing circles on her back as her sobs wracked her body. 

“There, there,” Lily eventually said. “I knew that fish didn’t look quite right.”

Narcissa laughed, then she cried.


	5. Bother

Final exams were fast approaching, and Narcissa could not bring herself to be bothered. 

She could not be bothered to do several things, in fact. She could not be bothered to eat. She could not be bothered to shower. She could not be bothered to go to her classes. 

Were she any braver, she would not be bothered to wake up in the mornings.

Her grades were undoubtedly suffering—it had to have been at least two weeks since she had last made an appearance to any of her classes. Several warning slips from several professors had been sent her way, but again, she could not be bothered. 

If she didn’t go to class and if she didn’t go down to meals, then she did not run the risk of seeing Lily again. 

“Narcissa?”

Edith had come in to check on her in their shared dorm periodically. She was the one who made sure Narcissa ate enough to at least keep breathing, and she was the one who had been turning in forged homework assignments on her behalf.

If she could be bothered to do anything at all, Narcissa would be grateful.

“Narcissa?” Edith tried again. “You have a visitor.”

“Lucius is not allowed in the girls’ dormitory.” Narcissa replied by rote. It wasn’t for lack of trying—Lucius was apparently livid that his bride to be had become some sort of recluse. 

Perhaps if Narcissa kept this up, his parents would dissolve the arrangement. 

And she would go to the next highest bidder. 

Not that it mattered, anyway. Not with James Potter in the equation. 

“It’s not Lucius,” Edith called from the door. “It’s the Head Girl. She’s come to check in on you. I’ll leave you two to it.”

Narcissa felt her body stiffen. She had not counted on Lily coming to her—the Slytherin dormitory ought to be her safe haven, her impenetrable fortress. 

“Don’t let her in!” Narcissa cried, scrambling in bed to shut her curtains around her. 

“Too late.”

It was Lily, not Edith, who answered. The redhead stood by the door, Head Girl badge pinned neatly in place, polished and straight on her lapel. 

Narcissa couldn’t move. Lily’s gaze had frozen her in place. Those green eyes were wide with shock and brimming with sadness. 

“Cissy.” She breathed, and the sound broke Narcissa inside. She had not counted on ever hearing Lily say her name again.

Narcissa could not respond. She felt tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill over. They did once Lily closed the distance between them with a sob. 

“What’s happened to you?” the Gryffindor asked with a cry, pulling Narcissa to her in a desperate embrace. “Cissy, you look half-dead!”

Narcissa just let her tears run free, feeling limp in Lily’s embrace. Her lack of response seemed to worry the Head Girl even further. 

“Cissy. Please talk to me. I haven’t seen you in two weeks. I’ve been worried sick!”

Lily pushed Narcissa back as she cried her questions, holding Narcissa up to a seated position on her bed. 

“Cissy! Talk to me!”

“Why?” came Narcissa’s question, out of the blue and out of her control.

“What do you mean,  _why_? Cissy you’ve been locked away in here for the past two weeks! I was half afraid you were dead!”

“What does it matter?”

The shock in Lily’s eyes was tremendous; her hands tightened painfully on Narcissa’s shoulders. 

“It matters because  _you matter,_ you insufferable idiot!”

Narcissa gave a wry smile, just enough to let Lily know she wasn’t buying it. She had never felt so utterly inconsequential, and whatever emotion her eyes conveyed, it was enough to make Lily groan audibly and miserably out of frustration. 

“Damn it all to hell, Narcissa! It matters because I  _love you!”_

Narcissa’s breath hitched painfully, but she couldn’t release it because Lily had pulled her impossibly close, crashing their lips together in sheer despair and a profound anguish that would never be quelled for as long as they both lived. It just made her taste sweeter.

It should have been different. It should have been different first because of Lucius, and then it should have been different because of Potter. But it wasn’t—it was exactly the same as it always had been. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Had it been different, it would have been easier to let go.

It was like Lily breathed new life into Narcissa with the kiss. Narcissa’s arms ceased to lie limply at her sides; they wound themselves around the Gryffindor’s body, pulling her as close as she could physically ger her. Hands searched blindly for the buttons of Lily’s shirt, for the waistband of her skirt, for the fringe of lace of her undergarments. 

Lily’s tongue in her mouth or her fingers in her should have felt different. Her sighs and moans should have sounded different. The touch of her body should have felt different. 

But it wasn’t. 

* * *

 

“Why Potter?” Narcissa asked as they lay entangled in her Slytherin green covers. Lily’s fiery copper hair framed her head like a halo against the green backdrop of her pillow; she looked beautiful and ethereal in her nakedness, like some kind of alluring wood nymph dragging Narcissa to the depths of some dark forest. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lily said, drawing circles with her fingers upon Narcissa’s exposed abdomen, tracing the goose-bumps they left in their wake. She sighed. “But he’s good to me. He’s a good man, I know it.”

Narcissa swallowed a retort. This was not the time. It would never, ever be the time. 

“I hope you are happy together,” she said instead. She was both disgusted and bewildered by how much she actually meant it.

Lily hummed flatly to acknowledge the sentiment, nuzzling against Narcissa’s neck. She didn’t wish the same for Narcissa and Lucius. 

Narcissa loved her even more for that.


	6. Wither

There would be no more talk of running away together, nor any more mentions of Lucius or Potter. 

It was better that way, Narcissa had convinced herself. The inevitable had been acknowledged—why rub salt into the wound? It was better to cherish the precious little time they had without any added distractions. 

Instead, there were long, secretive walks along the margins of the Black Lake. There were furtive glances exchanged over their House tables or across the stands during a Quidditch match. There were tender murmurs in hidden, empty corridors. 

There were heated, passionate nights of frantic, electric touches. There were hidden nooks and crannies privy to their soft, urgent whispers. There were long, drawn-out encounters that flirted with the morning as they languished in their love-making, pretending they had all the time in the world. 

There was the night before graduation, when they met at their usual empty classroom and whispered sweet, meaningless nothings in the darkness. They dared stay until morning light, eking out every second they possibly could have until the very end. 

And then, there was no more. 


End file.
